His Wedding Ring
by folie du jour
Summary: [Leroux] Oneshot. Christine returns the ring...


**Disclaimer:** _Le Fantome de l'Opera_ is the property of Gaston Leroux. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: A complete one-shot detailing the fates of the two lovers after Christine dutifully decides to return the ring.

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**His Wedding Ring**

The path was colder than she remembered, and more desolate. Every chill penetrated the soul, every sound echoed a thousand-fold, and every movement, whether by the rats or the cobwebs or her own huddled shadow, mimicked a wild and frenzied dance. The lantern, unwittingly clutched close by anxious, gloved hands, was only able to fend off a few meters or so of the oppressive gloom. And so she hastened, spurred by the odd darkness and her unclenching fear of being alone in it.

Upon passing the well, she felt something snag the edge of her dress. Overwhelmed by the sudden change in the bleary stillness, she lurched backwards, shrieking. But as her eyes met the crumpled figure of her former teacher lying against the grimy ledge, she allowed herself a faint titter at her silliness before being overcome by pity and grief. She had not prepared herself to see him like this.

There was no change in his appearance – he looked as thin and as wraithlike as he ever did in life. But no angelic assurance, or awful menace, or startling genius, or childlike innocence accompanied his form. Life had spitefully stolen what it could, and Death had taken the rest. He had lived spurned by the world, and he had died beneath the Paris Opera House in a dusty, cold cellar, miserable and alone.

When she finally realized this, Christine wished desperately that she had stayed, stayed as she had for her last performance, stayed so that he would not have been so _alone_. But she did not, and there he was, so she began weeping. And for a little while that night, the wailing of angels could be heard.

Stirring from her momentary anguish and once more aware of her fearful solitude, she wiped away her hot tears and removed her soaked gloves, preparing to complete the task her poor Erik had begged her to do. At first, she hesitantly reached for his hand, but apprehension flooded her senses, and she quickly withdrew. Looking down at her trembling hands, she fingered the plain gold band upon her left ring finger. With tense irresolution, she began to pull it off, preparing to pay her last respects.

It would not come off!

She tugged at it a little harder, first in confusion, then in frustration. Twist as she might, however, the ring refused to leave her finger. She glanced around and was suddenly snatched out of her concentration. The darkness seemed to expand, threatening to snuff out the poor little light and her will right along with it. Little scratches clawed past the black smog and Christine thought she felt ghostlike caresses upon her face and uncovered hands. A draft, she thought, trying to calm the fright spreading from her heart. But the scratches became screeches and the caresses became scrapes, and wondered if perhaps she should not have come alone.

Her fingers reached back for the ring and frantically tried to wrench it off. This time, it seemed to slide little. Using all her strength, still mindful of her eerie surroundings, she gave the ring one last tug. As it slipped off, she felt a sharp, burning pain on her hand and dropped the ring. A ringing clink followed the cavern's abrupt descent into darkness. A moment passed before the void exploded with terrifying and wretched screams.

Crushing panic shoved her to her feet and dragged her on a desperate run. A front of abrasive cold swept back her hair and chafed her skin. Her ragged sobs denied her clenched throat an invigorating breath, and her entire being could only force forward, hysterically trying to escape the furious dark.

Half stumbling, she ran until she could not feel the ground beneath her tired feet. She felt her fears swiftly lifting in a dizzying swirl. As the freezing water pierced through her once angelic little throat, the chaos within the cave promptly stopped, replaced by a faint humming rising out of the silent abyss of Averne.

---

Raoul had not seen Christine since that morning when she left to return her former teacher's ring. He had begged her not to go, begged her to at least take him with her, but she had not listened, adamantly stating that it was something she had to do alone. When she had not returned in the afternoon, he worriedly searched the streets only to end up at the opera house. Resignedly he entered, hoping that Christine had not gotten lost in the labyrinthine cellars or something as unfortunate.

As he neared the well, having yet seen no sign of Christine, he chuckled to himself. She had probably only been charmed into some quaint little store and spent her time picking out trinkets and scarves. Or perhaps she was visiting an old acquaintance from the opera. Surely nothing awful had happened to her. When he returned to his apartment that evening, he would tell her about this and they would laugh together.

He was suddenly torn from his thoughts when his foot slipped. Righting himself, he looked towards the direction of the weak rattle that had rolled away from his foot. It was a ring. And right beside it was a corpse. Raoul jumped back with shock, but soon composed himself when he realized that it was the monster's, as the Persian so fondly referred to him, corpse. So Christine had come and gone, he thought with relief.

But even with that reassurance, he could not shake that unbidden unease that had accompanied him since he first entered the fifth cellar. Just as he looked away from the ring and the dead hand beside it, he thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. He turned around wildly, trying to avoid whatever it was that had stirred, but most regrettably slipped again, this time on a loose stone wet from the misty well water. He fell back and, in the process of righting himself again, lost hold of his lantern, which shattered on the ground with a crisp smash. As the dark enclosed him, it ushered in an urgent message.

Perhaps he should not have come alone.

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A/N: So it's not laugh-out-loud hilarious, but I did find it perversely amusing. 

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!


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